


Stone, Stars, and Sun

by Askeebe



Series: A Couple Of Rogues [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1677623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askeebe/pseuds/Askeebe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mahariel missed the stars bitterly in the Deep Roads. Can Zevran restore her sense of self?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

High clouds scudded quickly through the sky, playing peek-a-boo with the hard, bright stars. Milena wrapped her fur cloak tighter around her shoulders. Even the Taint wasn't enough to keep her really warm during a winter night in the Frostbacks, but she couldn't bear the thought of anything between herself and the sky tonight, even if it was the thin canvas of their tents. She had just spent two of the worst months of her life fighting Darkspawn in the Deep Roads under Orzimmar, and the sight of the open sky was a balm to her soul even as her body shivered in the night.

Vartio lay at her side, nose tucked against his flank. He raised his head and let out a quiet woof before laying down again. "Zev," she said by way of greeting but not looking down from the sky. "What are you doing up? I said I'd take watch tonight. You should be in your tent."

"It's cold," he replied. She didn't know if he meant the night or the tent without her. "Shale said she would take watch, so that the squishy creatures would not freeze solid in the night." He paused, then squatted down behind her. His hands slid over her shoulders, and she could feel how the mountain night was stealing the warmth from his hands. "Come to bed, my dearest Warden."

"I can't, Zev," she whispered. "I swore an oath when I was down there." She hadn't spoken of it to him before. It was a private thing between herself and her gods, and she was afraid he would scoff if she spoke it aloud.

"An oath to freeze to death on a mountain side?" he questioned. His hands moved her hair to the side and she felt his lips ghost over her neck. Even his lips were cool tonight. He was from Antiva, and even after over a year in Ferelden, the cold was harder on him than on any others in their party.

"I won't freeze. The cold is a small price to pay." The moon was a waxing sliver high overhead. Its light wasn't enough to overwhelm the stars, and in the cold, stark night, they shined cold and hard in their infinite beauty, more stars than she'd ever seen before in the lowlands.

Zevran sighed and moved to sit next to her. He burrowed into his cloak until only his nose and eyes peeked out. "Then I will stay with you," he said.

"Zev, it's too cold for you. Go back to the tent. I'll be fine." He was obviously miserable, and she felt guilty for dragging him out here, then she reminded herself that he had made that choice.

"Ah, I may not have the Taint, but I have my love to keep me warm, mi amora," he said playfully. Unfortunately, the effect was ruined by the uncontrollable shiver in his voice. "Tell me the real reason you forsake our bed tonight, cara," he asked.

The wind picked up slightly, twisting through the tall pines and tossing light snow up in the air where it glittered in the starlight as it danced in the wind. Milena relaxed and let the cold wind pass through her, accepting the drop in temperature. Beside her, Zevran shivered again. Milena dropped a hand to Vartio and nudged him gently. He looked up at her, then over at Zevran. He woofed and padded over to fall heavily against the Antivan's side. She missed the hound's warmth keenly for a moment, but then her body equalized to the temperature. Zevran made no sound, but she felt him relax fractionally as the mabari's warmth began to soak into him.

"You won't understand." Not bitter, just stating a fact.

He huffed in annoyance. "I certainly won't understand if you don't tell me, cara. Even your brother Warden is secure in his tent tonight, sharing his body heat with our lovely bard to keep her warm. And I would rather freeze by your side than bundle with Oghren or Sten. Although if I thought I could convince Wynn to let me cuddle into her magnificent bosom, I would consider stopping by her tent. No, my dear Warden, you are stuck with me tonight." He leaned further into her. "Talk to me, mi dulce. Tell me what disturbs your thoughts tonight."

"You grew up in Antiva, Zevran. Tell me about the city. Is it like Denerim?"

He snorted in denial. "Hardly. Denerim is a muddy collection of hovels and dull grey stone beside a miserably plain port. The entire city stinks of dogs, fish, and filth. Antiva, though...Cara, I so want to show it to you someday. In Antiva there are delights for all your senses everywhere you look. The people are clothed in bright colors of so many different styles as each tries to outdo the other. There are spices in the food you have never experienced that make your tongue sing in delight. Even such delicious dishes as our lovely Chantry sister prepares would be put to shame by the simplest street food there. Every night the plazas come alive with colored lanterns, music, and dancing as everyone comes out to enjoy the coolness of the evening. Everywhere is movement. It is glorious chaos. It is a thief's paradise. The buildings are made from wood, painted white and decorated with murals. Or else the finer ones are made from sandstone that glitters gold in the noonday sun."

She smiled. "It sounds glorious. But does it not have any dark places?"

He chuckled ominously. "Of course, my glorious Warden. The Crows may nest high, but they hunt low. Antiva is criss crossed with sewers and trade tunnels. Some are even clean and well-traveled and host bazaars in the hottest part of the summer as everything moves into the shadows. But there are others you only venture into if you have friends at your back or are forced into by the direst necessity."

"But you are used to them, are you not?" she persisted.

"Of course. A Crow may spend days, even weeks, in darkness in the pursuit of a contract. We must be comfortable wherever we are. Even if it's freezing to death on a forsaken southern mountain," he sighed mournfully.

"You see, you are comfortable even when you are hemmed in by stone and darkness. I am not, Zevran," she whispered. "I am Dalish. We listen to the wind, talk to the forest, sleep on the moss. We move with the rhythms of the seasons. But in the Deep Roads, all that was cut off. I was buried in darkness and stone with the weight of a mountain crushing me down. I thought I would never see the stars again. I vowed to the gods that if I ever got out of the Deep Roads I would spend my first night above ground naked to the stars."

"But it would be so much more pleasant, not to mention warmer, if you were naked with me," he purred in her ear.

"Zev, please! I'm serious."

"So am I, my lovely." There was more than a bit of grousing in his tone, but he moved back and hunched deeper into his blanket.

The silence between them held a long time while Milena studied the stars. "I have a favor to ask you, Zevran."

"For you, anyth..." His eyes widened as she quickly put her hand over his mouth.

"No, listen first. This is no small thing I ask." He nodded as she took her hand away and shifted to face him. "First I must ask a smaller favor. What I will tell you is a Warden secret, so it cannot go beyond you. Do you agree?" She waited for his nod. "The Taint grows ever stronger in Wardens, year by year. Eventually, it becomes too much until the Warden is driven mad by the thoughts of the darkspawn, and the Warden goes to the Deep Roads, there to fight the darkspawn unending until they die." She shuddered, not seeing the flicker of distress and unease in Zevran's golden eyes. "I do not want to die like that, Zevran. I don't want to chance being dragged off and transformed into a broodmother. I want to die in the open, facing the sky as is proper for the Dalish."

She reached out to grasp his hand in both of hers and pleaded to him, "Please, Zevran, if you have any kindness in your heart for me, do not let me go there."

His hand tightened on hers until he felt the tiny bones move, but she didn't notice. "How long, cara? How long?" he grated out.

"Twenty, thirty years. No more." The nearly eternal lives of elves were a thing of legend now, but it was still a mere fraction of what either of them could expect, barring misfortune.

"Ah, no, mi amora. It is too soon," he mourned.

She answered with resignation in her voice. "It is unlikely that I shall have to face that fate in any event. There is still the archdemon to face down. But it would ease my heart if I knew that I had your promise, Zevran." She looked at him hopefully.

He met her gaze, his amber eyes filled with sadness. "I have no intention of leaving your side, heart of mine. But what you ask..."

"From what I understand of the end, of the Calling, Zevran, it would be a kindness."

He hunched over her hand, holding it against his forehead. She had a feeling it was to hide the hurt and pain he was feeling. She had long since grown accustomed to the idea of the Calling, and it brought no more than a faint sense of regret for what might have been. Instead, she was hopeful for the first time that there might be a peaceful way to avoid the Deep Roads, but she knew it would cost her love dearly.

Finally he brought her hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle softly, sensuously laving each crease between her fingers with his tongue. "If I agree to do this for you," he asked in a soft voice, "will you come back to our tent?"

"You ask a very small price for your favor," she remarked.

"Not just for tonight, cara. For all nights. Stay with me for as long as we have, and in return, I promise I shall stay with you until the end and give you the release you ask for." His eyes glittered in the starlight, tiny pricks of light reflecting glints of gold and silver.

She nodded her assent and stood, bringing the Antivan to his feet with her. The gods had more things to worry about than the fate of one Dalish elf, and she needed Zevran as much as he needed her.

Hand in hand, they walked back to their tent. The canvas cut her off from the stars, but the golden warmth of the sun was in her lover's skin, his touch searing the cold from her. When they came together, it was in a rhythm as old as life itself, and the crushing weight of the last two months finally dropped away under his touch.

As she lay under the furs and encircled in his arms, she felt a sense of peace that had eluded her most her life. The archdemon was still out there, but for now, she had her friends, her mabari, and most importantly, the love of the man who had come to mean everything to her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Zevran to honor his vow

“Stop! Please! No more!”

Zevran vaulted awake at the sudden noise and turned to cup his lover’s face in his hands. “Shh, mi cara. It’s only a dream. Wake, Milena, wake.”

She opened her eyes and stared at him, uncomprehending for a moment until reasoning returned to her. “Zev, Zev,” she chanted over and over as she held him tightly. Her once crushing grip was frail now. 

Zevran gathered her close in his arms and whispered reassurances in her ear. A movement at the door caught his attention. Their son, Liam, quietly opened the door to see if his help was needed. Zevran shook his head, and Liam closed the door without a sound. He had inherited both his parents’ talents at stealth and could move as silently as a ghost when he wanted.

He became aware of her silent tears running down her face and dampening his own hair. “Shh,” he whispered again. “Would you like to go outside?”

She nodded wordlessly, and he picked her up effortlessly. He carried her through the trees to an open meadow near their tiny cottage. Overhead, the full moon was close to setting, and only the brightest stars competed with it in the night sky. 

He set her on her feet while he spread the blanket out, then helped her lay down. The scent of crushed summer wildflowers rose up beneath them. 

“It’s so beautiful, Zev,” she whispered.

“Not half as beautiful as my wild Dalish elf,” he responded as he pushed her dark hair back over her ears. Strands of silver wound through it now, and in the moonlight he could see the wrinkles at her eyes and mouth. They had grown deeper over the last year as the Taint grew ever stronger in his lover.

She smiled but didn’t respond, content to simply lie under the summer sky and gaze up at the stars. They stayed there until the moon set and the first hint of false dawn glimmered on the eastern horizon. Zevran lazily traced circles on her skin. His desire for her was as strong as ever, but her strength was failing her. He knew that right now, this was as much intimacy as she could manage. 

Their time was running out. Rather, her time. They had defeated the arch demon almost two and a half decades ago. Afterward, they had disappeared, neither of them desiring the glittering trappings of court, and he still on the run from the Crows. They had traced her clan to the Free Marches, only to discover they had been slaughtered by the so-called Champion of Kirkwall. She had wanted to take vengeance, but she had been heavy with his child. It had been hard, but he had talked her into forsaking vengeance in favor of their family. Liam had been born in the outer provinces of Orlais, and that is where they had stayed ever since.

“It’s time, Zevran,” she said, sending a shock through him when she echoed his thoughts.

“Milena,” he started, but she put her fingers over his mouth.

“I can’t take it anymore, Zev. The whispers in my mind. I hear them all the time. They never let me sleep or rest. Sometimes, I don’t even know where I am. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you or Liam.” Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes.

“No, mi amora, you would never do that,” he denied.

“Zevran,” she said sternly. 

He knew exactly what she was referring to. Only two weeks past, she had slashed at him with a kitchen knife while making dinner, lost to the whispers in her mind that turned everyone to monsters. Since then, he and Liam had surreptitiously hidden the weapons in the cottage.

“I should have gone to the Deep Roads a year ago, Zev, while I could still hold a weapon.”

“No, I swore you would never have to go, mi amora.”

“I know, my love. You also swore to help me when it was time.”

Now it was his turn to bury his face in her dark hair. “I am not ready, cara,” he mourned.

She sighed deeply and stroked the back of his head. “I am. This life is too heavy, Zev. The light and joy are gone. We both knew this time would come.”

He couldn’t hold back his sobs. “I swore I would storm the gates of the black city itself for you. That seems an easy task compared to what you ask of me now.”

She was serene as she comforted him. “I know, Zev. But it must be done. There’s no one I would trust with this besides you.”

“When?” he asked finally.

“This morning. With the dawn chorus and the light coming up. I want to go with the sun on my face and the sky open to receive my spirit.”

Another tear slid down his face as he nodded. He couldn’t bear to speak. He kissed her and rose unsteadily to his feet to return to their cottage.

The vial was small and unassuming. Plain glass stoppered with a bit of cork and wax. He looked at it in his palm. Death was what he had promised his lover so many years ago. Painless death as easy as falling asleep. It had been an easy promise to make then, but always in the back of his mind, it hung heavy and uneasy.

“Father?” Liam stood next to him and looked at the vial. Liam was the best of both of them. Skilled in woodcraft and herbalism, deadly with weapon and body. In looks, he took after his mother, long dark hair and green eyes but without the vallaslin, or blood writing. Milena had bitterly rued the loss of her clan, but couldn’t stomach the idea of returning to Ferelden and searching out other clans. Instead, she had passed on the Dalish lore as best she could without a Keeper. “Is it time?” he asked.

Zevran could only nod. Liam clasped his shoulder. Their son was nearly twenty. They had prepared him as best they could to make his way in the world, but he had preferred to stay with them. He never spoke of it to his mother, but once to Zevran he had said he would stay until she left them.

“She’s in the meadow,” he finally got out. “You should go. Say goodbye.” Liam nodded and headed out. Zevran busied himself by filling a waterskin with a measure of wine, then pouring in the potion. She couldn’t drink much, so he only added enough wine to cover the bitterness of the herbs.

When he arrived back at the meadow, he saw Milena sitting up and holding a bunch of wildflowers. Liam was lying with his head in her lap and she was stroking his hair as she did when he was a small child. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but there was a smile on her face, and he locked the memory away to treasure later, when the sadness had faded. As he walked up, Liam sat up and kissed his mother on the forehead. He hugged Zevran and left the two of them alone.

Zevran settled down next to his love. The sun had risen and it promised to be a beautiful day, clear and cloudless. The dawn chorus was loud and sprightly. She held his hand tightly in hers. “Thank you, Zevran. I know it’s hard. I’m...I’m sorry.”

“Shh, mi amora. You have nothing to apologize for. We never expected to survive the arch demon, did we? But we did, and every day since then has been a gift.”

She smiled as she looked out into the dawn. “Yes, it has. And Liam was the best gift of all.” They sat quietly, hand in hand. He felt her shudder and knew the whispers were back in her mind, but she sniffed the wildflowers and relaxed. “This is a good place. A good time. Take Liam to find his kin, Zevran. I couldn’t go back to Ferelden, but he should see the Dales.” She took another deep breath of the wildflowers, then set them down and picked up the waterskin.

“I love you, Zevran, with all my heart. Remember that. I will wait for you in the Fade.” She smiled at him as a tear ran down her cheek. She uncorked the waterskin and drank it down. 

They both lay back on the blanket. The rising sun should have warmed him, but all Zevran could feel was cold. He pressed his lips to hers, tasting the faint bitterness of the herbs on her breath. Her hand squeezed his once, and her spirit fled into the sky. 

He held her and sobbed until his throat was raw and there were no more tears. He brushed her hair back from her face, finally at peace. “My wild Dalish elf, I will count the nights until we meet again,” he whispered to the sky.


End file.
